


Miles Apart

by zosimos (trismegistus)



Series: Fullmetal Alchemist/Supernatural Mashup [38]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-30
Updated: 2010-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/zosimos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed <i>hates</i> faeries. (And they hate him right back.) FMA/Supernatural fusion crossed over with regular series canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Ed and Al that you meet in this story are from a fusion universe with Supernatural. You don't need to know much of anything about Supernatural to read this, just the knowledge that this Ed isn't the same one as canon!Ed. (Hawkeye and Roy, on the other hand, are as normal as they get.)

Al had the kid slung up on his elbow, her tiny arms around his neck and face buried in his shoulder; she was too frozen by fear to move. Ed snarled, swiped the blood out of his eye with the back of his hand holding the flashlight. "Which way did that fucking thing _go_?"

"I don't know," Al said. He might have chastised Ed for his language in front of a child, but he was more concerned with getting the little girl out of this warehouse alive than with her hearing Ed's colorfully vulgar vocabulary. He held his gun in his left hand, his off-hand while shooting. Fortunately, his skill with his off-hand far surpassed the average person's skill shooting with their _good_ hand.

The weapon was loaded with the bullets that Ed and Al had painstakingly drawn protective symbols on the night before; he'd already squeezed off several shots and if he was counting right he only had four bullets in his gun. Al had another clip of the enchanted bullets but he'd have to put the girl down to dig the clip out of his pocket, and with the way her tiny fingers dug into his neck he didn't want to let her go. "It's too small and fast, and it's too dark in here-"

"I know, I know!" Ed yelled, covering the room with the gun and his flashlight settled atop each other. The girl gave a muffled sob into Al's shoulder and he squeezed her tighter to him. Ed didn't look over at them, but his mouth was set in a hard line as he swept the room with his flashlight. Small warehouse room, plenty of hiding spots and thank god that Al had his back to the wall because the creature could jump out at them from anywhere. "Come out, come out you fucking faerie," Ed growled. "We've got a pot of gold for you, right here!"

Both Ed and Al held a particular dislike for the fair folk, because while some were just troublemakers and meant no ill will to people, there were others who were downright malicious - and invariably you didn't know which you were dealing with until it was almost too late. Most of their encounters with the supernatural didn't have much to do with either type of faerie, but in the nature of their jobs they'd run up against the Unseelie court all the same. Al supposed that he would hate fae just as much as Ed did if it had been him stuck as a girl for a fortnight.

"Clurichaun don't care about gold, Ed," Al said as Ed kicked aside a small pile of debris. "Their currency is wine." They both heard a clatter off to one side, and they turned carefully that way - Al with his gun held out and Ed sweeping the area with his flashlight. Before he could say more, a small dark form darted through the beam of Ed's flashlight as it swept over a metal table. "There it is!"

"I see it!" Ed shot at the clurichaun with stunning accuracy. Al's shot went a little further wide but they both served to herd the faerie away from them. The clurichaun, a tiny thing with ugly features that Al was grateful he only caught a glimpse of ducked under the table as the enchanted bullets ricocheted off and bolted for the exit. "Oh no you don't!" Ed yelled, giving chase.

"Ed!" Al shouted after him. It was a bad idea; the thing was probably trying to split them up. "Ed, wait!" Ed ignored his brother, kicking through the door that slammed behind the clurichaun, gun out and ready.

*

Ed stumbled through the door and nearly fell. It was as if someone had removed the exit stairs, and a straight drop of about three feet surprised him and sent jolts of pain up his legs as he landed. Ed didn't fall though, catching himself on a wall. The daylight hit him like a slap in the face. He stood a moment, fixed, his gun and flashlight still out but the clurichaun was long gone.

Or maybe it wasn't. There was some rustling about halfway down the alley from him, and Ed edged in that direction. Before he could get close enough, the alley cat shot out from under the bagged garbage with a yowl. Ed swore and kicked the bag of garbage. That disturbed a few other smaller stray cats who weren't pleased and Ed stood there and watched them all flee the scene. He sighed, the clurichaun had gotten away. Ed thumbed the safety on his gun and tucked it into the back of jeans for safe-keeping before pulling his shirt down over it to hide the weapon from curious eyes. He clicked the flashlight off and then turned to go get Al.

The alley was a dead end, literally. There was no door that he had exited from; the brick was smooth and unbroken. Ed ran his hands over the brick and then swore again, louder, and slammed his hands flat against the wall as if it would produce a door at his whim. "Al!"

Nothing. Not that he had really expected a response, after all. With one hand on the wall like he expected it too to vanish, Ed gripped his flashlight in his teeth and fished his cell phone from his pocket. When he flipped it open he groaned. No signal on that, all the bars were gone and even the clock was out. Wherever he was, it was a serious dead zone. No clue where he was, no way to contact Al - "Fuckin' _hate_ faerie folk," Ed muttered out loud. He'd have to find a pay phone and hope that Al still allowed for collect calls to his cell. Nothing would get done with him just standing here and besides, with the way his luck went the clurichaun probably magicked him to Ireland.

That would explain at least the time difference. When he and Al had parked outside the warehouse the sun was just disappearing behind the derelict buildings of a long-defunct business district. This sun was the hazy warm morning light, bright in a way afternoon light didn't seem to hold. The alley was cast completely in shadow, but the street beyond that was bathed in sunlight, with a handful of early-morning pedestrians making their way along the boulevard.

Ed sighed, pocketing his cell phone. Fuck, how was he going to get back in the country? He was supposed to be dead, after all. That would light up the FBI's grid like a goddamned Christmas tree. Why did things just have to be so _difficult? _

Not a single person on the street gave him a second glance; his mode of dress was not entirely out of place. Ed glanced around, and then frowned. There were only a handful of cars on the street, and their make and model was not only unfamiliar, but they looked positively ancient, even by his admittedly biased standards. Trying not to panic, Ed looked closer at the mode of dress of the people on the street. It seemed just a touch old-fashioned, not so much that a few individuals would stand out in the streets of New York, but that _everyone_ dressed that way...?

"Fuck," Ed said again because it bore repeating.

*

Panicking got him nowhere, so the first order of business was to figure out where, exactly, the clurichaun had teleported him to. Ed walked along the road and was surprised that the street vendor signs were all in English. At least, he was assuming it was English, given his ability to read them.

It was because had his head craned back and was trying to read a sign as he walked under it that facilitated the fact that he didn't see the man until he walked right into him. The guy was tall – very tall, Ed was no midget and he barely came up to this guy's shoulder. Their shoulders caught solidly and Ed rebounded back, and the guy he walked in to staggered back against his buddies. Ed stopped, irritated, as the guy snapped at him. "Watch where you're fucking going!"

Ed was not in the mood. "Maybe if you didn't take up the whole fucking sidewalk people wouldn't walk into you," he retorted, unwilling to back down. He realized as he looked at them that these three men were wearing some kind of uniform he that he didn't recognize, and that they were, all three of them, drunk. "Okay, I know it's five o'clock somewhere, but shit," Ed said. "It's a little early to be plastered off your asses, isn't it?"

The big ape of a man that Ed had walked into took the first swing at him. Ed ducked, shifted his grip on the flashlight in his right hand and swung upwards. The head of the flashlight caught the man under his chin and snapped his jaw shut and head back in one smooth motion. Ed felt the impact up to his shoulder and was once again glad that Al had insisted on buying some good quality, solid flashlights this time.

People had scattered back as the other two moved around their friend, who caught himself on the wall, somehow still on his feet. Ed grinned, holding the flashlight loosely. He logically knew that this was a really bad idea, they outnumbered him, he had no idea where he was and really shouldn't be stirring the shit just yet. But he was pissed as hell, the clurichaun was long gone and it was too small to punch even if Ed had been able to lay his hands on it. At the very least, this was going to be cathartic.

Ed looked between the two buddies of the larger man. They both had dark hair, worn short in a military cut. Ed pointed at the first one. "Heckle," he said. Then he pointed the flashlight at the second one. "Jeckle."

Apparently neither of them liked the nicknames Ed had just given them. Heckle came at Ed first, but got the flashlight across the temple for his troubles. The man grabbed his wrist as he went down, twisting it back at an angle that made Ed drop the flashlight with a hiss. Ed's left cross made him let Ed's wrist go, and at the same time Ed kicked, trying to prevent Jeckle from getting a good grip on his lower half. Ed turned and stomped, the tread of his boot catching Jeckle in the shoulder and getting snarled in the gold aiguillette that hung from his epaulette. Now on one leg Ed looked as the shadow of the larger guy crossed his vision. He was able to wrench his head as he saw the guy's fist coming, the blow glanced off the side of his head instead of hitting full to the face.

It was still enough to put him down, off-balance as he was. Ed hit the ground hard enough to have the wind knocked out of him. Jeckle shed his jacket expertly and rolled out of the way as the first beast of a man kicked Ed hard below the ribs. That hurt, quite a bit. Ed rolled onto his side and curled in to protect himself.

Before the man could kick Ed again, someone shouted something he couldn't distinguish. The sharp click of military boots on concrete overwhelmed his hearing as other ran up. Ed was tasting bile in his mouth and trying not to throw up – the guy had reinforcements? He was well and truly _fucked_ if that was the case. Someone grabbed Ed by the back of his shirt and hoisted him to his feet. The men surrounding them were dressed in similar uniforms to his opponents but they were black and not dark blue – not reinforcements. This knowledge told him all he needed, and the moment Ed was fully upright he threw himself at the first guy. He managed halfway into a full tackle before more hands grabbed him back and restrained him.

Heckle was lying on the ground, both hands on his head where Ed hit him with the flashlight. "Shit," he said as the men in dark uniforms hoisted him to his feet as well, before shoving his hands behind his back and cuffing him. He hung his head and groaned; the bruise already apparent above his eye. "Not again."

*

Roy Mustang yawned, propped one elbow on his desk as he rubbed his eye wearily with that same hand. It was insufferably hot in his office, the sun giving little ground and cooking him from behind quite thoroughly. It was a Saturday, he had too much built up paperwork he'd been avoiding throughout the week and the reports all had to be in by Monday. Roy eyed the stack of papers from under his hand and willed them to immolate.

Hawkeye opened the door to his office, and then stood in the outer office a moment, fanning some of the hot air aside with the folders in her arms. "Good morning, Colonel," she said, propping his door open. "Glad to see that you arrived promptly today."

There was no mistaking the undercurrent of threat to her voice. "Good morning, Lieutenant," Roy responded with an overworked sigh. "More reports that need to be in by Monday?" How had he managed to miss this much work? He was beginning to feel like a delinquent schoolboy held for detention on a pretty afternoon.

"Not quite." She laid the majority of the stack of folders to the side of his desk, things to be dealt with on Monday proper. Roy exhaled in relief, but then she slid a clipboard in front of him.

Roy looked down at the clipboard with a frown, then back up at Hawkeye. "Arrest reports?"

"There was a small brawl outside one of the popular bars that the night shift soldiers frequent," she said. Roy looked up at her, unsure how she managed to not look like she was about to dissolve into a puddle of sweat at the oven that his office had become.

"You have the authority to sign off on those, Lieutenant," Roy said, clearly confused by this change in protocol. He tapped his pen against the side of his jaw and felt no mercy. "Let the miscreants cools their heels in the brig for the weekend."

He only caught the flicker in her expression in his peripheral vision. "You should look a little closer at the arrest report, Colonel," Hawkeye said instead, leaning to sort through the reports that Roy had dropped messily into a completed pile.

Roy frowned, looked at the expression on Hawkeye's face and then skimmed over the information in the report. He stopped near the bottom of the page as a name jumped out at him. "_Fullmetal_ was the instigator?" It wasn't unusual that Edward would instigate such a thing; it was in fact quite a common occurrence. The MPs knew him on sight and usually the warden would give him a call personally every time Edward got picked up for fighting. This time, however…

"I sent Fullmetal to Richvania out past West City two weeks ago," Roy mused out loud. He had just talked to Alphonse not two days ago – Edward would not put down his book to report in and didn't want to talk to 'that bastard colonel' as he shouted in the background - Alphonse dutifully relaying a much-cleansed version of the diatribe that Roy could clearly hear anyway. "The last I heard, they were still there."

In truth, Roy had sent Edward as far west as he could, trailing after several cases that were long cold. However Edward had picked up the leads and seen something there, his eyes had widened with barely-contained excitement and he only just remembered to open the door before bolting out of Roy's office, waving the orders over his head at Alphonse. Roy was trying to remember what exactly those old cases contained, it hadn't seemed anything significant, but Elrics were so well trained to think outside the box there was no point in trying to parse it. So they'd lit out west like a fire was set under them, and Roy could … relax.

He knew the betting pool existed but had ignored it because of how long it _had_ existed. Roy had no interest in little boys, and Edward was just so beautifully infuriating that there seemed to be a special level of hell assigned just for him to be screamed at over his desk, sulked at, growled at. He'd even had the (now artificial, the real one died of neglect years ago) plant he kept on the low table thrown at him once.

Lately, something had changed in Edward's gait. It was subtle but it was in the way he carried himself. He had added a few inches, and it wasn't in the boots that had thick soles to give him extra height. He was still unmistakably _short_, but there was something different in his eyes. When he caught Roy's eye over his desk Roy had felt his breath catch in his throat. Wild, untamed, so undeniably _Edward_ that Roy couldn't take it and quickly found assignments that would keep Edward out of his office and thus, keep Roy's eyes from falling out of his head when he watched Edward's ass in those leather pants that left little to the imagination. The last thing he needed was anyone in the office to catch on to … whatever it was that Roy was failing to deal with.

In fact, he was afraid that Hawkeye was going to catch on to him right now by the way she was looking at him. He set the clipboard down and folded his hands in front of his face, trying to ignore the sweat that was now tracing its way down the back of his collar as he thought. "If it were truly Fullmetal," Roy murmured. "Alphonse would have been in my office by now."

"I agree," Hawkeye said. "Someone who gave Edward's name when he was arrested."

Roy exhaled through his hands. "If it's that Tringham brat again…" He let the threat trail off, he couldn't think of something threatening enough to do that Edward hadn't already described in great detail in the past. "I suppose I ought to go see who we've got incarcerated then, if it isn't our delinquent State Alchemist."

They both glanced at the pile of paperwork that remained on his desk. Roy sighed and reached for another paper to sign without reading it. Hawkeye plucked it out of his hands, though. "If you're just going to sign it without reading it," she said. "I can see to that." Roy looked at her in surprise, but Hawkeye picked up the stack of paperwork. "Don't dawdle, I expect to see you back here soon, Colonel." Roy pulled on his uniform jacket and fastened it, then pocketed his gloves as Hawkeye retreated to the cooler outer office.

Recess.

*

Roy wasn't entirely sure who he was expecting to see in the cell. Some imposter, surely – but who in their right mind gave Fullmetal's name? He was partially expecting the thin willow Tringham boy; entirely dissimilar to Edward but used to weaseling his way about impersonating him and using the military funding for his own alchemical research. Roy had thought numerous times on dumping the boy in the brig for his misappropriating of military funds for civilian use; but Edward was oddly fond of him. Roy was beginning to learn that Edward showed his fondness in yelling how much he hated someone and wanted them to fucking die in a ditch. Edward didn't have many friends, after all, and while he wasn't exactly chummy with Tringham they did work well off of each other.

Under that frame of reference, reworking in his title of "bastard Colonel…" Roy smiled to himself as he stood in front of the attendant's desk. He signed off on the paperwork that the bored attendant held out for him. "Thank you, Colonel Mustang," he said, turning away from his desk and filing right there. "He's been nothing but a pain in the ass since they brought him in – if you don't mind me saying so, sir," the attendant tacked on quickly at Roy's carefully neutral expression. "He keeps bothering everyone for a ball to toss, and keeps calling himself "The Cooler King," whatever that means."

"I see," Roy murmured.

The attendant slid a tray across the desk to Roy. "These are the personal effects he had on him," he said.

A ball formed in the pit of Roy's stomach. A wallet, hard leather and thin. Unfamiliar currency – wasn't cenz, and didn't look like any of the neighboring country's currency either. The IDs were strange, hard plastic and the tiny pictures on them looked enough like Edward that this person clearly did their research. He closed the wallet and looked at the gun on the tray as well. It was familiar, a Colt, much like most of the military carried. The safety was on and the clip ejected, but most of the bullets were gone. The few that remained had strange, small black symbols drawn on them. Several knives of varying size all lay on the tray as well. Whoever this person was, it looked like they were prepared to carry out a one-man war.

The attendant was watching Roy's expression carefully, but he was apt to be disappointed, he didn't let the mask slip an inch. "Where is he?"

"Last cell," the attendant nodded at the row of empty holding cells.

"Where are the soldiers who initiated the scuffle?" Roy asked, surveying the row. "I didn't sign any release paperwork."

"No, their XO came in and posted their bail." The attendant looked down at the paperwork. "Nothing had come through to keep them any further, and no charges were filed."

"Thank you," Roy said. He left the tray on the attendant's desk, and the man slid it aside but didn't remove it, on the off chance the MPs would bring in more people before Roy was done here.

He relished the sharp click of the military boots on the concrete floor, even if it must have alerted the prisoner to his presence, but he was still sitting with his back to the cool wall out of the sunlight, at the far side of the cell. Roy stopped before the bars that crossed one side of the cell in its entirety. Gold eyes, catching the light like a wolf's, tracked his progress and an eyebrow cocked up in recognition. "Okay," Edward Elric said; his elbows on his knees as he looked Roy up and down with an unsettling familiarity, "Now I _know_ I'm in Westworld."

Roy's throat tightened in confusion. There was a stain of brown blood in Edward's fair hair, and dried blood caked the side of his face. He had been wounded and no one had bothered to look at him. No wonder he thought he was in West City, he had a head wound. "Fullmetal," Roy said carefully. "What are you doing here?"

He snorted at Roy. "Yeah, that's what I'd like to know too. Fuckin' fae, that's what." He stood up carefully, winced only a little. "What are you doing wearing one of those ridiculous uniform skirts, Mustang, is this all part of you plan to fuck entirely with my head? Because, just for the record, it's working." He crossed the cell and leaned against the bars, hanging his hands out through the gaps and grinning, easy and open, for Roy.

Now Roy knew he couldn't keep the confusion off of his face. Because, leaning against the bars of the cell comfortably, he was looking directly into Edward's eyes. Not down, no platform in his boots, the man was flatfoot on the ground. "What the hell did you call me, anyway? Fullmetal? That's a new one." He pointed at Roy. "You better not be referring to the Impala, she's my baby and doesn't _need_ any of your fruity naming shit."

This man – because, as Roy swallowed and fought the overwhelming urge to take a step back – was like looking into a mirror of the future. Edward's eyes, sharp as ever, brilliant gold like a wolf's but set more in his face; older, wiser. Lines around his eyes, a crooked comfortable grin that was beginning to vanish as he realized that something was wrong. Broad shoulders, and two arms, whole flesh and not metal, draped out over the bars of the cell. "Roy? What's wrong?" The smile quickly disappeared and settled into something else, worry. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

More unsettled than he'd been in his entire life, Roy still managed to keep the mask on, the shield of military authority. "Who the hell are you?" _How do you know who I _am_, why were you looking at me with that relief in your eyes? _

The imposter-Edward's brow furrowed as he studied Roy, unable to understand his reaction. He looked down at the ground and exhaled, then straightened, slapping the palms of his hands against the bars. "You don't know who I am." He rubbed his jaw and let out a short, bitter laugh. "Guess I should be grateful, it's better than everyone wanting a piece of me, but fuck, Roy. You don't even recognize me at all?"

Yes I do, Roy wanted to say but he really didn't. This close to the imposter-Edward he could see that the man needed a shave, stubble slightly darker than the brilliant hair on his head decorated his cheeks and chin. "Who are you, then?"

Imposter-Edward crossed his arms over his chest. He was clearly considering it, glancing about the walls of his cell as if that was going to provide the best answer. "Before I answer that, could you tell me where I am?"

"That's a curious request."

"Humor me, Mustang; I've had a bad day."

Roy raised an eyebrow; _he'd_ had a bad day? But it was a fair question and there was little to gain from withholding the truth. "You pick a fight and you don't even know where you are?"

"I'll hear it from Al, I don't have to hear it from you too," imposter-Edward was good, Roy had to give him that.

"You're in the military brig in Central City," Roy said smoothly.

"Central City?" The man laughed, shook his head. "Well, shit, call me Barry fuckin' Allen, then. Central City," he repeated, clearly amused by this revelation.

"So your name is Barry Allen?"

"What? No, no that's the Flash. He was based out of Central City." At Roy's expression he shrugged his shoulders. "A comic book character. He runs really, really fast."

"I don't understand."

"Comic books? You know, sequential art that's used to tell a story, even you can't be that fucking dense-"

Roy's jaw tightened. "I know what a comic book is, Fullmetal."

The imposter-Edward sat down on the bench that was little more than a wooden plank held to the wall with old chain. "There's that name again," he murmured. "But, you answered my question, so I'll answer yours. Fair trade." _Equivalent exchange._ He flashed a cocky grin that Roy recognized without fail. "The name's Ed Elric."

"That would be an easier lie for you to pass off if he wasn't part of my command already," Roy said coldly. "I'll ask you again. Who are you?"

There was the start of anger in the imposter-Edward's eyes. "Th' fuck? You asked for my name and I gave it, Ed Elric. Ain't my fault if you don't believe me." He waved a hand in the air. "S'not like two people can't have the same name."

Except, not in Amestris. Roy had made a point of looking it up; before he had even visited them that first time - the Elrics carried their mother's name and she had been an only child. "Augh," the imposter-Ed said, rubbing his hand through his hair gingerly and leaning his head back against the wall. "It's been a long fucking day, and I'm not even in Kansas anymore." A frown. "Well, we were in Colorado, but whatever."

He looked it, too. The fatigue pinched around his eyes, the blood on his face, the scruff – he had clearly been through a lot. And Roy couldn't believe he was actually thinking this, but – he looked far too much like, and acted far too much like Edward for this to be a sheer coincidence. "So you think you're actually Edward Elric."

"Ah, would you just go away, Mustang?" Imposter-Edward waved a hand at him. "You're not gonna believe me and I've got bigger fish to fry than going around and convincing everyone that I'm the ~real deal~." At the silence from Roy, he looked back over. "Guess your name's not Mustang. Sorry, random military shithead, you just look an awful lot like a guy I know."

More and more. "I am Colonel Roy Mustang of the Amestris Military," Roy said officiously. "I would appreciate that you at least address me formally."

"Bull-fucking-shit, Mustang. You won't even accept that my name's Ed and you want me to fawn over you? Oh _Colonel~_" and the mocking, breathy tone that imposter-Edward, that Ed used actually seized in his stomach. Ed got up and stalked the bars of the cell and rattled them. "You can't keep me in here, I haven't done anything wrong."

"You assaulted a military officer."

"Who didn't press charges because they were fucking drunk, an' it was their fault anyway."

"You are impersonating a State Alchemist."

"I'm – _what?_" The expression that crossed this Ed's face was priceless. "Like, an alchemist-alchemist? Or that new age-y occultist bullshit?"

Now it was Roy's turn to be confused. "What?"

"Like Aleister Crowley alchemist or like Nicholas Flamel alchemist?"

This conversation was quickly becoming too surreal for Roy. "What difference could it possibly make?"

"What difference? Summoning demons is a hell of a lot different than transmuting lead to gold."" Ed smacked the bars of his cell. "Look, can I just have my shit and go? I can boy-scout promise that I won't assault any more of your military officers, I just want to get home."

"Where is your home, then?"

Ed gave him a long look. "You'll think I'm mental."

"How could it possibly be any worse than you claiming to be a fifteen-year-old alchemist?"

There goes that expression again. This Ed was just as carefree with how the emotions crossed his face. "_How_ old? You let fifteen-year-olds join the army? What kind of freaks _are _you here?"

"Fullmetal was a special exception," Roy murmured. "He actually joined when he was twelve."

Whatever train of thought this Ed had apparently ground to a halt at that, he leaned against the bars of the cell, mouth open. "_Twelve?_ What about, what about Al? Don't tell me you let him in the army too, I'll have to break some arms, oh my fucking _god_-" He pressed a hand to his forehead, ran his fingers through his shorter bangs and then exhaled. "Fucking fae, never do any fucking good," he muttered. "Well, you guys have some kind of magic here, maybe I'll be able to get myself home in no time at all and I won't have to deal with this freaky mirror-world that long."

"What in the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"Told you, you'd think I was mental."

"I don't think there's a single thing you could tell me that would make me think you're crazier than you already are."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Ed muttered, "But I think I'm from another world, kinda a … mirror world? Because there's a Roy Mustang where I'm from, who looks almost exactly like you, except –" Peered at Roy's face, they were far too close even with the bars of the cell separating them. "Except older, probably a few years older."

He was right; Roy _did_ think he was crazy. "How did you get here?"

"Fuckin' clurichaun, that's how. I almost put a bullet through its tiny evil skull but it got away and apparently zapped me further than I originally thought."

"Well," Roy said cautiously. "I have heard of stranger things. Rather, I have heard of Fullmetal _causing_ stranger things, so let's say I'm inclined to believe you. What are you planning to do?"

"Get my ass home, that's what I'm planning to do," Ed said. "We have a war on; I can't just duck out on faerie-induced holiday for however long I want. That could …" he hesitated then, the shadow of emotion cutting across his face Roy didn't recognize. Then he met Roy's eye and was surprised by the expression there. "It could mean the end of the world."

"Apparently your talent for hyperbole only deepens with age," Roy said. "You're military?"

"I wish it was hyperbole," Ed muttered. "It would make life so much easier. And, no. Thou' my dad was, for a while. He fought in 'Nam." The words meant nothing to Roy. "Look, could you just let me out of here? I can find my own way, I just gotta get back as quickly as possible."

"If you really are Fullmetal from another world, then your capacity for destruction is quite immense," Roy said. "I wouldn't feel comfortable releasing back out on the streets unattended."

"So, what, you gonna assign me a babysitter?"

"Given the uniqueness of your situation, I am rather accustomed to making provisions for wayward Elrics." He smiled coldly. "I'm willing to bet you have some talents that could provide useful to the military while we try to find you your way home."

"I ain't joining your military," Ed said firmly.

"A partnership, then. As it is on a temporary basis, after all."

Ed studied him. "Mustang, you haven't changed one bit." He mirrored Roy's cold grin. "You use me, I use you, and we both get what we want. Fair's fair, as long as I don't have to sleep here."

"I'm sure that something can be arranged," Roy said.


	2. Chapter 2

Ed was beginning to contemplate worse things to do to the clurichaun than just kill it. It was increasingly clear that he was completely out of his depth here, in an entirely different world that held these mockeries of the people he knew. That fake-Mustang … not coincidentally, _also_ named Roy Mustang … he kept giving Ed a look that he couldn't quite decipher. He clearly didn't quite believe Ed was who he said he was, but as the other participants in the early-morning brawl had been released there was no reason to keep a civilian incarcerated.

After access to some clean towels and bandages Ed finally got to wash his face off in the men's restroom. He scowled at the gash along his hairline before bandaging it tightly. His jaw was bruising a little too, from where the largest of his opponents had slugged him. Al would give him shit for getting into that fight, if he ever got home to tell him about it. Ed gripped the sides of the sink and stared down into the white porcelain. Did the clurichaun go back for Al and the girl, or did they get away? Fuck, with Ed gone Al might decide there was nothing left to it and finally give in, what if he got back and his little brother wasn't his little brother anymore? The thought made him sick.

Mustang at least left him alone in the bathroom. Not that Ed could escape unnoticed here, the windows were too small for him to think about wriggling through, even if they were easily accessible (which they were not). Ed exhaled and stared at himself in the mirror. He'd lost his cell phone and maglite in the fight, the arresting MPs took his gun and knives. He was weaponless, lost in a strange new world with these bizarre other-people, and he had no ideas on how to get home.

The bandage settled under his bangs nicely, wrapped tight around the rest of his head. He was far too experienced at bandaging his own head injuries; he really needed to learn how to duck. Ed flicked the ends of his bangs; his hair was in need of a trim. Al usually took care of that for him, but who knew how long that would be? Ed scuffed his fingers through the rest of his hair. He was in desperate need of a shower and a shave, but this would have to do for now. At least he didn't look like he'd just staggered out of a bar brawl, even if it was the truth.

The Roy Mustang of this world – Ed _still_ couldn't get over the resemblance – was waiting outside the bathroom, looking mildly uncomfortable. It was warmer in this building than it had been in the cell block. This world clearly didn't have air conditioning. Mustang's bangs were sticking to his face with sweat, but he still wore that neutral expression that showed no signs of discomfort. _His_ Roy liked to taunt him with that same expression, the man had an iron curtain around his emotions that he could pull out effortlessly and it was an aggravating thing to be confronted with.

This Mustang looked just a touch younger than his, though. He was missing a few lines around his eyes and the scar on his chin from taking a swan dive down a flight of stairs after a vampire. He also noted with great satisfaction that Mustang seemed genuinely uncomfortable with the fact that Ed was just a hair taller than he was. He remembered high school well, and the anger there that he hit his growth spurt so damn late. If the Ed of this world (shit, he really had to stop thinking that because it was TOO DAMN WEIRD for words) was only fifteen, that growth spurt was still a few years in the future.

"Feel better?" Mustang rumbled, his eyes searching Ed's face for … what, he wasn't sure. Ed let him look for a second, then smirked at him.

"I'd feel better with a shower and a shave and a beer, but good enough for now."

Mustang nodded. "We'll see what we can do about the first two, but first I have an errand to run." The look that he gave Ed told him that he was going to be accompanying Mustang on this errand, whatever it was.

"First I want my shit back," Ed said. "My gun, my knives, all of it."

"Unfortunately, I'm going to have to hold on to those for you," Mustang said smoothly. "We don't allow civilians to roam about on military bases armed to the teeth."

Ed scowled at him. "The gun I'm fond of, but it's replaceable. One of the knives is not. One knife."

"This is not a debate, Edward."

"No," Ed said, getting right up into Mustang's personal space, eyes blazing. "You do NOT get to call me that. _No one does._" Mustang's face was impassable, but there was a subtle widening of his eyes, he clearly had not expected the outburst of anger at his name. He knew what to look for, with Mustang. He knew it too well. "And fuck debates anyway, you are giving me back my knife or else I am going to make your life miserable. Think your teenage me is a pain in your ass? You ain't seen _nothing_, I can guarantee it."

They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment; Mustang's impenetrable dark gaze and Ed's narrow gold one. The tiny hallway was suffocatingly warm, and time seemed to freeze at their battle of wills. There was a microscopic relaxation of Mustang's features. "I suppose there is no harm in allowing you a single knife," Mustang murmured, Ed clearly too close for his comfort. "It's not as if your counterpart couldn't do as much damage with his arm just as quickly."

Ed exhaled; he hadn't realized he was holding his breath. "It's an important knife," he said. He could lose the gun, the throwing knives, hell even his wallet was replaceable – it wasn't like there was much cash in it at the moment – but the demon-killing knife they had taken from Ruby? Al would string him up by his shoelaces _(if he was lucky)_ if he lost that. It was one of their very few trump cards, and Ed would do anything to make sure it didn't leave his possession again.

Mustang cleared his throat and looked at Ed pointedly, and Ed realized how close he was to the man and took a conspicuous step back. Personal space. This wasn't his Roy.

The attendant gave Ed a suspicious look as Roy signed out his personal items. Ed snatched the demon-killing knife off of the tray and slid it back into its empty sheath. Roy had his other weapons bagged and carried them under his arm – he wasn't going to discard them. Ed felt slightly grateful for that, even if he currently felt naked without the comfortable weight of his gun at his back.

It had to be almost lunch time, but Ed wasn't feeling the time difference. He squinted in the hot sunlight as they walked out onto the street. Really, he hadn't paid too much attention when he was hauled out in cuffs to the area that the brig was in, too busy with trying to slip out from under the hands of the MPs and failing because they were actually competent. It was a military complex, full of large white buildings that shone in the direct sunlight. He really didn't like military complexes, they were usually under layers and layers of security and if he was near one, he was either in handcuffs or they were deep undercover. Oddly, with Mustang here, even a fake one, he felt a lot more at ease.

Ed grinned at several secretaries who were obviously on their way to lunch; they had all flashed flirty grins at Mustang as they passed, but then their eyes were drawn to Ed trailing behind him, so he winked at a brunette that caught his eye. She blushed and fled after the others. Ed cocked his head as he watched her go, nice body, tight little ass … the smirk came unbidden to his face, and he almost walked into Mustang's back. The man had stopped when the secretaries has passed them and now was giving Ed a strange look. "Watch where you're going," Ed complained.

"Hm," was all Mustang said.

Walking into the main building was like walking into a brick over. Ed groaned as the wave of heat hit him, shoved up the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt and contemplated just going ahead and stripping to his tee shirt. They didn't pass too many other people, most of the soldiers who would be there working had the logical sense to go the fuck home on a Saturday.

There were some dedicated workers there (or something). The few soldiers that Ed observed were wearing that same peculiar blue uniform. Most had their jackets off, and some people wore button-down shirts, other tee shirts, and still others had sleeveless tops on. There was some construction going on down the hall and Ed paused a moment as Roy started up the stairs, then caught up.

The outer office that Mustang led him into was even stuffier than the hallway. Ed lingered in the doorway and tried not to sweat through his shirt as Mustang walked through to his inner office to collect whatever it was he had left behind here. Ed's eyes darted to where he put down the paper sack containing Ed's stuff, and grinned.

"Excuse me," a woman said from behind him. Ed half-turned in the doorway and he smirked again. She was about half a head shorter than him, blonde hair pulled back tight, intelligent, dangerous brown eyes and a great figure, even hidden under the bulky, blue, and apparently unisex uniform.

"Hello there," Ed said, leaning on his elbow against the doorframe, still blocking the entrance to the office.

Her lips were pressed into a flat line as she looked up at him. There was a flicker of familiarity there; Ed recognized the spark lit across her eyes. She wasn't seeing _him_ at all, and his smirk grew a little more distant. It was disconcerting when people did that, imagining whatever sort of brat the this-world version of him was, in his place. At least he already recognized the look.

"Please move," she said. "I won't ask again."

Ed flattened back and allowed her past, watching approximately where her ass would be under her uniform in the hopes of catching a glimpse of its figure. "So," he said, following her into the office properly. "What's a pretty thing like you doing working in a military office on a Saturday?" He put both of his hands on the desk and grinned at her. She filed the paperwork she had in her arms without looking at him.

Mustang was standing in his open doorway when Ed looked up, an expression of comedic horror on his face. "I take it you found our imposter, Colonel," she said, opening a file folder and holding a pen out to him. "I just need your signature and then you can go for the weekend, sir."

"Hey," Ed said, insulted. "I'm not an imposter." He turned around and watched her walk over to Mustang, leaning against the desk with his hands braced against the lip. "I'm just new to town." That same grin came easy. "Maybe you could show me around, I'm sure you know some of the best places in town to grab a drink."

She spared him a glance, looking him up and down, and then took the folder and pen from Mustang's nerveless fingers. She filed the folder away, placed the pen back in a cup that sat on the desk and with the same methodical precision, pulled out her gun and shot two bullets into the ground on either side of Ed's boots.

"Will that be all, Colonel Mustang?" she asked, holstering her firearm.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Mustang said. "Have a good weekend."

"You too, sir." Without even looking at Ed again, she walked out of the outer office.

Ed was staring down at the two smoking bullet holes, which by some miracle of precision didn't even touch his boots. He moved his feet gingerly away, expecting to have lost toes, leather, something, and wiggled his feet. "Why didn't you warn me?" he asked, peeling his fingers from the desk.

"I honestly couldn't find the words," Mustang murmured. "I was going to have her file the paperwork to put you up in the barracks for the weekend, but I don't think that's a particularly good idea now." He sighed.

Ed shrugged. "I can find my own way, Mustang; you don't _need_ to babysit me."

"If you're going to be cooperating the least I can do is find you a place to stay the night," Mustang said. "I have a friend who might be able to put you up; we'll go to see him later." Mustang stopped beside where Ed was still leaning against the desk and smacked Ed on the shoulder almost playfully as he passed. "I do have to commend you though, you have a stronger bladder than Havoc and for that I am quite glad."

*

The day melted into dusk as Ed followed Roy throughout the town on his errands. They were just a handful of things, a stop in a coffee shop here, at a bookseller there. Simple conversations, but Roy soon noticed that Ed lingered just in earshot, listening alertly. As he bid farewell to the florist and strode along the sidewalk, Ed dropped into pace beside him instead of behind him.

"You have an entire network of contacts in this city," Ed said in a low, impressed voice. "That aren't affiliated with your military at all. Planning a coup, Colonel Mustang?"

Roy glanced at Ed with only his eyes, fighting the smirk down. "I have no idea what you could be talking about," he said evenly.

Ed shook his head and grinned, looking up at the sky.

*

The street lamps had just started to come on, warm amber lights suspended above their heads as the last of the daylight faded into night. The heat hadn't broken but seemed softer, more comfortable. Moths and flies buzzed about the street lamps as Roy turned down a familiar street. He was surprised that Ed had kept with him; he had given the man plenty of opportunity to slip away throughout the day. He had, actually, lost Ed for about half an hour but Ed had returned with two sandwiches and Roy's wallet.

(He still wasn't sure when Ed could have gotten it.)

*

Their last stop of the night was a pub, a worn-down looking place with one of the lights above the sign broken and the door busy with people entering and exiting. There were groups of people clustered around outside, most in some layers of the military uniform that Ed even now was getting used to seeing everywhere. No one gave them a second look as they passed, but Mustang spotted someone. He stopped in front of a man leaning against the tired brick of the pub, a cigarette somehow staying in his mouth by sheer force of will.

He started to drag out a sloppy salute for Mustang, but then he spotted Ed behind Mustang's shoulder and he stopped, his eyebrows shooting up off his face and into his hair somewhere. "I take it your date with Viola didn't go as planned, since you're here," Mustang said, drawing the man's attention back to him.

He dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his heel. "I don't even want to know how you knew," he grumbled. Then he looked at Ed, standing a foot back with both hands in his pockets and an amused expression on his face. "Who's that?"

"My guest, tonight," Mustang murmured.

"He looks like the boss."

"I have a name," Ed said, more content to watch the confusion. He had to let it be entertaining after a while, otherwise he would just get angry.

"Ed, I would like you to meet Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc," Mustang said smoothly. "One of the men under my command."

Ed stepped forward, offered Havoc his hand. Havoc looked down at his hand, confused a second, and then took it. "You're not… are you related to the boss?"

"I bet you're not talking about Springsteen, are you?" Ed asked.

"Who?"

"Are you ever going to get tired of that?" Mustang asked mildly as Havoc looked to him in confusion.

Ed's grin again, sharp in the street lights. "Nope."

"So, Havoc," Mustang said as they stood outside the pub, the clatter of glassware and chatter of voices leaking out onto the street. "Since your date with Viola ended in such tragedy, perhaps you could lend your couch to Ed here. He doesn't have anywhere to stay the night."

Havoc eyed Ed, and then shook his head. "I don't have a couch anymore, Colonel."

Ed snorted despite himself. "I've heard a lot of excuses before, but that one-"

"No," Mustang said, rubbing his chin. "He's telling the truth, I remember now." Ed looked between Mustang and Havoc, an eyebrow cocked.

"Ex-girlfriend," Havoc said sheepishly.

"Ah," Ed said. "That bad, huh?"

"Put a dead fish in it." Havoc hung his head, then pulled out a fresh cigarette and clamped his teeth on it. "I was on a mission, gone for two weeks."

"That's why you never take them back to _your_ place," Ed murmured. "Women prefer their own beds anyway." Mustang and Havoc both, very slowly, looked at him. Ed looked between them, irritation rising at their expressions. "What?"

"Roy!" A jovial echoing down the street drew all their attentions. Another man, taller than both Ed and Mustang slung a companionable arm over Mustang's shoulders and grinned as he flipped a wallet out from his pocket. "My darling Elysia has got a new bathing suit, look!"

"Maes," Mustang said, clearly somewhere between tired and annoyed.

The man identified as Maes looked up at Ed and Havoc, and his grin didn't even slip for a second. He was good. "So, you're our Edward impersonator, then?"

"Impersonator?" Havoc repeated.

"I'm no imposter," Ed said dangerously. "_I'm_ Ed Elric."

"Right, right," Maes said, nodding his head and waving his hand in the air. He stepped forward and peered right in Ed's face, invading his personal space in a quick motion that made Ed jerk back, startled. "The resemblance is uncanny. Like looking into the future, huh, Roy?" Maes turned and waved the pictures still in his hand under Mustang's nose again. "See, here she is at the pond! Look, she's feeding the squirrels!"

"Maes," Roy said again. "Why don't you show Ed the photographs of your lovely daughter?"

Ed's eyes widened in realized horror as Maes turned an attentive eye on him, then straightened with a predatory grin.

*

"Jeez, colonel, did you really have to be so hard on him?" Havoc sat in the middle of the long booth, Breda boxed in beside him. Roy sat across, with his hands folded across his face. All three of them had been shooting looks at the bar for the last half an hour, as Ed sat with his shoulders slumped; Hughes beside him and more pictures than one could imagine that would fit in a pocket wallet spread out between. "There's gotta be laws against cruelty like that."

"I have seen those pictures," Roy said slowly. "Seven times in the last two days. Desperation does strange things to a man." He took a sip of his drink, the whiskey sliding over the ice and down his throat, a familiar, comfortable burn. "This is something you should know well, Lieutenant."

Breda scoffed and Havoc winced. "That's low," he muttered into his drink.

Roy made a humming noise of assent, watching as Hughes turned to find something – either another photograph or his knives, he was moving a little clumsy, and Ed took the opportunity to slip off his bar stool and into the crush of people. Ed slid into their booth next to Roy without hesitation, dropping his stein of beer onto the stained wood, followed quickly by his forehead. "What did I ever do to you?" he groaned at Roy as Havoc and Breda both laughed.

He simply cocked an eyebrow, looking down at Ed and, pausing. There was something slowly surfacing there, restricted by the alcohol and common sense and Roy didn't know if he wanted to see that on Ed's face, in front of all these people.

Fortunately, a barmaid came by to collect Roy's empty glass, her long brown hair catching the low light. Both Ed and Havoc stared at her, and then glared at each other. As she left Ed leaned across the table and hissed at Havoc, "Fifty, _what_ is your currency, cenz that I get her phone number before you do."

Havoc's face flushed dark at the implication that Ed, even such a different one, would be able to get a girl's information before he would. Breda hooted as he slammed back the rest of his drink, dropping the glass to the wooden table with a loud clink. "You're on," he said angrily, slipping out of the booth and heading unsteadily for the bar.

"How do you plan to pay him if you lose?" Roy murmured, shifting to check for his wallet just in case.

Ed's eyes, predatory in a way he wasn't familiar with. And that sharp grin, not the full-teeth smile that Fullmetal was so fond of but far more measured – _I know something you don't_ – "I'm not going to lose."

"Ed!" Hughes plopped down into the booth, opposite both Ed and Roy, pictures spilling out of his hands. "I lost you, I didn't get a chance to show you the pictures from my darling Elysia's last birthday-"

Ed stood, smacked the table with one hand. "Wouldn't you know," he said. "It seems that the Colonel here was just telling everyone how long it'd been since he'd seen those pictures, I think he wanted a chance to see them again." He held up a single handed wave as he purposefully headed toward the dartboards at the far side of the bar.

Hughes screwed up his mouth, looked after Ed, then back to Roy. "Oh, he's good," he said in amusement. "I turned around and he was _gone_. Didn't even hear the barstool scrape."

"Don't know how you'd hear anything in this cacophony," Roy murmured, as a different barmaid delivered a new round. Roy lifted his eyes to the bar, saw Havoc leaning against it and talking earnestly with a barmaid – but not the one that had been by their table before.

Breda looked over at Hughes. "So you think he really is who he says he is?"

Hughes watched Roy's eyes track Ed throughout the pub as he moved through the crowd, stopping only for pretty girls. "Yeah," Hughes said. "He's Ed all right, but not our Ed."

"I thought that much was obvious," Roy said.

"Well, you never know with your crazy alchemy and what have you," Hughes said cheerfully. "If a stone can make someone immortal, who's to say something similar couldn't age them, too?"

Because Ed aged forward wouldn't have this easy grace, this confidence in himself and the way his body moved. He wouldn't look at Roy like that, at all. Ed aged suddenly forward would be clumsy with his new height and breadth, and it would be all Roy's fault, surely. It had to be the alcohol, because suddenly Roy's mouth went dry.

"What do you think, Roy?" Hughes said. "You think he's Ed too, don't you?"

It was the eyes, he knew those eyes. They had seen more things, different things and probably worse things than Fullmetal, but they still reflected the same way. They still pierced him through the same way. Roy took another drink, realizing that Hughes was staring knowingly at him, and then said as if after much thought, "Yeah, I do."

Havoc dropped into the booth, this time beside Roy as Hughes had taken his spot beside Breda. He hung his head, putting a fresh drink on the table. When they looked at him expectantly, Havoc groaned. "She wouldn't even _talk_ to me; I got pawned off on another barmaid."

Hughes looked between Havoc and Breda as Breda began to laugh. Roy looked back over to the dartboard, where Ed was yanking several colorful darts off the corkboard as a soldier Roy didn't recognize held out several bills. Leaning against one of the tables not a few feet away from Ed was the barmaid in question. Havoc followed Roy's look questioningly, then groaned louder, both hands on his head. "Do you have fifty cenz I could borrow?" he asked Breda loudly.

"She might not even have a telephone," Breda said pragmatically.

"She might not even have a telephone!" Havoc repeated hopefully.

Roy was ignoring them, watching the way the woman looked at Ed, smiling for him and he said something to her with that same calm smirk that Roy recognized so well; and once again felt his stomach seize in the wrong way. Hughes' eyes were on him, considering, but he didn't care. He could pass it off on a little too much to drink later.

He was going to have to.

*

Ed seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth, into the crush of people in the pub and never reappeared. Roy had glanced around the pub several times but as the hour grew later more and more people began turning up and even with Ed's brilliant blond hair he was impossible to spot in the mess. At least he hadn't walked past them to slip out the front, their booth was too close to the door, and one of them would have seen him leave. Besides, Ed didn't seem too interested in making a break for it, more like making a buck. He hadn't come back to collect off of Havoc yet, and Havoc was already bemoaning the loss of most of his drinking money for the night and hadn't even paid up.

Roy sighed as he opened the men's bathroom door. The small two-stall washroom was usually quite packed on any other night, and Roy found it quite surprising that no one was in line for its use at the moment. Several men had watched him go in with eagle-eyes and Roy kept his attention around himself, in case someone was thinking about trying to mug him in the men's room.

The lack of use became clear, because as he stepped into the washroom the sound of heavy breathing greeted him, along with the hitch in a girl's voice as she moaned. _Someone_ wasn't able to wait until they got home.

Roy groaned quietly, he had to relieve himself more than he wanted to exit the restroom. He tried to ignore the sounds coming from the stall behind him, but they were persistent and did not slow despite the fact that someone else had clearly entered the bathroom. It was rather hard to take a piss when the sound of wet flesh slapping and the woman's breathy pants were beginning to get overwhelming. Aggravated, Roy zipped up and turned on the stall, pulling the door open to give the soldier a lecture on military decorum even in public.

The woman – the _barmaid_, Roy recognized her right off the bat, her dark curly hair falling to partially obscure her naked breast - let out a gasp of shock, balanced precariously on Ed's lap. Ed glared up at Roy, his legs spread wide to give her better balance, one had on her hip and the other on her chest. "Do you _mind?_"

Roy – _stared_, how could he not, he was sure his mouth was open because of all the places he'd figure Ed would be in this lousy bar, finding him fucking the barmaid in the bathroom was not even something that had come up on his radar. He still couldn't reconcile the _flirting_. He was staring at where they were joined, her skirts hiked up over her thighs, and Ed noticed it too, jogged his hips up into her and she whimpered for him, hands on either side of the stall for support. "Like what you see?" Ed said softly, looking at Roy without shame.

He snapped his mouth shut, turned and walked out of the washroom, ignoring the handful of guys emboldened by Roy's exit. He returned mechanically to the booth, where Breda and Havoc were trying to drunkenly recall a song. They were both too far gone to notice the peculiarity of Roy's expression. Maes however, damn him, quirked an eyebrow and read Roy like a book.

Not long after Roy returned, Ed followed as well; his face flushed from booze and sex. Roy could still see the sweat in his hair. He didn't get in the booth beside Roy, thankfully. Roy didn't know if he was going to be able to restrain his hands and having to explain to Breda and Havoc, never mind Hughes, why he was so upset was not something to look forward to.

Ed's look at Roy was very pointed, and very heated.

Havoc nudged Breda and chuckled at Ed. "Where ya been, boss?"

"Yeah," Breda said. "Did you get her number?"

Ed didn't look at the pair of them, still staring at Roy. "She didn't have a telephone," he murmured. "So I fucked her in the bathroom."

Havoc inhaled instead of exhaled and started coughing, and Breda had to smack his back several times. Hughes pressed his lips into a thin line, he was still looking at Roy and not Ed, and Roy wasn't drunk enough after all.

Ed was smirking lazily at Havoc, who had opened his wallet and then looked at Ed with pleading eyes. Breda pointed at Ed. "The bet was for phone number, not sex," he said.

Ed shrugged, ran a hand through his hair and glanced again to Roy, who was staring into his empty glass as if it had all the answers.

Hughes leaned forward, his hands folded around his own empty glass. "Sorry to say we don't have any room for you to stay," he told Ed, his eyes suddenly sharp. "But I think Roy still has a spare bed."

Roy's eyes shot up to Hughes' face like he'd been betrayed. Hughes ignored him, shoving Havoc into Breda beside him. "It's been a long day, and these two geniuses are probably going to need help getting home. Perhaps we should call it a night, then?"

Mouth dry, not looking at Ed, Roy said quietly. "Perhaps we should."

*

The night was still quite warm outside of the bar; but the air was clear of the smoke that hung heavy in the air. Ed raised a hand, waving as Havoc and Breda staggered off, arms over each other's shoulders as if that would keep them upright. Hughes had given him a particular look that Ed wasn't sure he was comfortable with, but bid them a good night, before herding Havoc and Breda in the right direction.

Several street lamps had burned out along the street that Mustang led him down and after a while Ed just stopped, taking in the starry expanse of sky above him and trying desperately to find a familiar constellation to make him not feel so suddenly alone.

Even the breeze was warm. It was some relief without the sun high in the sky, but it was still completely uncomfortable. Mustang walked ahead of him, his military jacket open and the top few buttons of the shirt he wore beneath it undone. Every time he glanced back at Ed there was some kind of accusation there, something unspoken and angry that hung in the air between them. He had forgotten, however briefly, that he didn't know this man. The eyes, the voice, the easy smirk … they were all the same, but he didn't know this man the way he knew his Roy.

The silence between them was awkward and sullen. Mustang walked with measured, even strides – the gait of a man who knew he had a little too much to drink but had enough self-control to mask it. Al was the same way, measuring his stride meant he didn't have to think about the reason he was drunk in the first place.

Things were so weird here. Ed felt a strange companionship; he felt welcomed by the people here but it was far too alien for him to relax. Mustang's cronies were nice, but they looked at him like he was fifteen fucking years old, when he hadn't been fifteen in at least that long. He knew he didn't LOOK fifteen, there was no way anyone could mistake that about him, but he knew what they saw when they looked at his face and it made his gut burn.

He wanted to get home; this game had gone on long enough. Therein lay the problem, of course … there was no way _for_ him to get home, not without finding the clurichaun and demanding it magick him home again. That was assuming the clurichaun popped through into this weird mirror-world with him and didn't go back after Al and the little girl. Even if it _did_ come over with him, Ed wanted to put an enchanted bullet or three through its skills before it zapped him somewhere worse. He didn't know that fae could teleport people to other worlds, but considering all the other things they could do, it really didn't come as a surprise.

Ed was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't realize that Mustang had stopped walking and turned to look at him. Ed paused, beside a lamppost and stared right back at the colonel. His eyes were dark and impenetrable from this distance. "What?" Ed asked.

"In what universe," Mustang began his voice scratchy. "Are those actions appropriate, in public?"

Ed shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and cocked his head. He was trying to decide if he should be insulted or amused at Mustang's indignation. He thought about it, but his thoughts fell back to her brown hair, the way it felt as it ran through his fingers and how she needed little urging; she'd been watching him since he walked into the bar in the first place. The smirk on his face must have told Mustang exactly the course of his thoughts because he gave a disgusted noise and turned away.

He put one shoulder against the metal light-post – cool even in this weather – and wondered suddenly if this Mustang would taste the same. The man stopped walking several houses down, and pushed open a gate, obviously that was his residence. Ed licked his lips, thought about Roy's pulse in his throat and came to a decision even as Mustang stopped and glared down the street at Ed loitering.

Maybe Ed had more to drink than he realized, as he followed Mustang into the house. It was an easy gesture, catching Mustang by the shoulder and spinning him into the wall, barely waiting for the door to latch closed behind them. He was breathing hard and fast, the faint haze of alcohol coloring his vision. Mustang had stiffened under his hands, gone rigid and while his face gave no indication of his thoughts his eyes were wide open for Ed to read.

It all made startling sense. "The reason you're so upset," Ed breathed, his face inches from Mustang's, not giving him anywhere to retreat to. "You weren't angry, you _liked_ what you saw. You're jealous." His gold eyes on Mustang's dark ones, unblinking. "Do you look at your Ed the same way did me?"

"Don't-" Mustang croaked. "He's not- he's just a child, I can't-"

One hand flat against the wall beside Mustang's head, he had nowhere to go but to face Ed. "You can't what, look? I know you do, you've been comparing me to him since you first laid eyes on me. There's no way you're less perverted than him, no _fucking_ way." He wasn't touching Mustang, close enough that they were sharing breath but not a finger touching him. "Do you know what I was doing when I was fifteen?" He shifted his weight, moved a little back from him. He could sense Mustang shifting forward to eliminate that space between them; he wanted to _touch_ Ed. "I was fucking cheerleaders in supply closets."

Mustang tried to suppress his groan, only partially succeeded. "That's different," he said, and swallowed. He tried not to wet his lips and failed. "The age difference, our positions, it's fraternization-"

"Fuck the age difference, and fuck anything else," Ed straightened and gave Roy a slightly disgusted look. "If you really wanted him, you wouldn't let shit like that stand in your way."

For the first time a different expression crossed Mustang's face, anger. "I don't know what it's like where you're from," he snarled. "But the consequences, it's not something _I_ can risk-"

"If it were simple," Ed said, "everyone would do it."

*

Ed left Roy standing there, pressed back against the wall inside the foyer like it would save him from himself. He waltzed into Roy's home like he knew it intimately, although after a moment of orienting himself it was clear he didn't. But a kitchen was a kitchen and the light flickered on, bathing the hallway in cold artificial light.

Roy took a deep breath, trying to collect himself and his scattered thoughts. With Ed right there, possessing him without a finger on him … is that what his Edward would grow into? Ed possessed the room like he owned it, he wasn't afraid of Roy's eyes or anyone else's, for that matter, on him. He was confident in himself, in his sexuality and in the fact that he got what he wanted.

He straightened one hand still on the wall in case his legs had really turned to jelly like they felt. Ed called in annoyance from the kitchen, "Don't you keep anything worthwhile to drink in here?" as he ran water from the tap. Couldn't keep the smile from his face, despite everything, or maybe because of it this man was still so much _Ed._

Roy leaned in the doorway of his kitchen as Ed drank straight from the faucet, doubled over and giving Roy a spectacular view of his ass in denim. He had opened his mouth to direct Ed to the cupboard where the glasses were held, but found no words and just watched him. Ed straightened and ran the back of his hand over his mouth, turning off the faucet and turning around, meeting Roy's eye with a flicker. "Nothing but milk in your fridge," Ed said, his voice pitched with enough disgust that Roy knew some things would never change ever, and watched as Ed leaned back against the counter and regarded him.

"I get it," Ed said after a long moment, and Roy startled, realized he was staring. "Your situation is a hell of a lot more complicated."

"That's an understatement," Roy murmured.

Ed's mouth quirked in an almost-smile. "You need to be straightforward with him," he said. "If he's anything like me, he's going to break your nose if he catches you staring at him. He'll understand." The way that he was looking at Roy, there was a strange softness in his eyes, a look that Roy recognized all too well. Ed was in love-

-with _him._

Not him, Roy corrected himself quickly, his heart already in his throat. The other world's version of him. The other Roy Mustang, the one who knew this man intimately, had to have seen him grow up, seen him through everything-

Another expression that Roy recognized well closed Ed's face off to him. He didn't understand the pain that Ed just tried to mask from him. "Trust me," Ed said quietly. Then he sighed and looked away. "Don't you have any, beer or something here? I could really use another drink, the buzz is fading-"

Roy shook his head. "I … don't entertain much." He had his good scotch, and the brandy he kept in the drawing room but Roy had an idea where things would go very quickly if they broke out the good liquor.

Ed laughed a little, and then straightened. He looked directly into Roy's eyes again, the amount of direct eye contact Ed got out of him was unnerving, it was like he could read through Roy's most stonewalled expression just by looking into his eyes. Roy didn't _like_ that, he liked his barriers. They were there for a reason, after all-

_-to keep Edward out, and to keep Roy safe-_

"So," Ed said, licking his lips. "Where am I sleeping?"

Roy clamped down on his words before his far too overeager libido answered for him. "I apologize," he said after a moment. "Maes was mistaken, I don't have a spare bed, but I can sleep on the couch."

This time Ed did laugh, snorting through his nose. "No worries," he said, waving off Roy. "I've slept in far worse places than a couch with sheets and a pillow."

"I must insist," Roy said. "You're my guest, it would be rude of me not to offer my best accommodations-"

Ed crossed the kitchen faster than Roy anticipated. Toe to toe with him, Ed maybe had a half inch of height on him but it still felt to Roy like he towered. "Roy," he said, and it was the first time he'd said Roy's _name_ since Roy found him in the brig. The inflection of one syllable made Roy's stomach twist as Ed leaned in close, whispered – "I'm not sleeping in your bed _alone_," and then somehow slipped around Roy into the hallway. "I'll sleep on the couch," Ed called as he found the stairs. "I'm borrowing your shower, hope you don't mind."

The door to the bathroom upstairs banged noisily shut before Roy remembered how to breathe again.


	3. Chapter 3

The call came at about three in the morning, the telephone's noisy jangle cutting through the silence of the night like a sharp knife. Roy turned in his bed; he had been staring sleeplessly at the ceiling for far too long. He wasn't allowed to think these things. He wasn't allowed to _feel_ these things, the emotions he had kept tight in his gut kept threatening to boil over and he could _not_ let them out.

He had self-control, once.

The phone rang again before his hand closed on its carved handle, clumsy in the dark as he groped. Roy dragged it to his ear. "Mustang," he murmured; his voice scratchy with sleep.

"Colonel." Roy didn't recognize the voice on the other end of the line out of hand. "There's been an incident."

They wouldn't have called him in the middle of the night if there hadn't been. Roy swung his legs off the side of the bed and found the dangling chain of the lamp, wincing at the warm amber light that spilled from beneath its shade. "What kind of incident?"

*

His military uniform was thrown haphazardly against the chair kept in the corner of the room. It was wrinkled but Roy took no notice, closing the complicated clasps on his military jacket as he padded down the stairs. His boots, still in need of a shine, were sitting beside the door so he wouldn't wake -

Ed, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs, wolf-gold eyes glinting in the wan light. "What's going on?" His voice was as hoarse as Roy's had been, the effects of alcohol and little sleep.

And, he had been wearing a longer-sleeved shirt the entirety of the day, he had shed that to sleep in his undershirt, a tee shirt that seemed to almost be a size too small. Paired with those jeans… Roy coughed, passed him at the foot of the stairs and paused in the foyer. "Nothing that concerns you," Roy said, picking up his boots and realizing that there was no dignified way of tugging them on. He took them back to the stairs, sat and started pulling them on. "Go back to sleep, Ed."

Fingers tangled in long, loose hair – _Go back to sleep, Ed._ Roy swallowed, stared at his boots and realized the Ed that stood beside him had his hair cut short, the longest thing about it was those ever-present bangs.

Ed had leaned an elbow on the railing, looked down at Roy with a considering expression. "You're going out in the middle of the night in your full uniform, that's not nothing."

"Ed, really, it doesn't concern you." Just a disruption outside a military facility, just a hostage situation; just something else he'd have to deal with tonight. Roy pulled on his second boot and then stood up, testing that they sat right around his feet and ankles. He would never live down the time he was too drunk and forcing his feet in the wrong boots, he didn't even remember why he'd taken them off -

The flash of blond in the moonlight made him remember. It had been Edward, of course it had been – limping in late to the office to use the medical kit but instead found Roy and Hughes drinking brandy in Roy's office. Edward had bolted like a frightened rabbit but Hughes caught him, herded him back and coaxed Edward into sitting down so he could see the injury, patch it up with those calm, sure, father's hands.

Then it came time to remove Edward's boot and see what was jammed up under the heel of his automail and Edward – refused. He didn't want them, either of them to see it but his eyes had flicked inexplicably to Roy's. Roy had looked at him, considered through the haze of brandy and kicked his own boots off. Hughes followed suit, and then Roy leaned his elbows on the desk and purred that they weren't wearing their boots, so that made Ed the odd one out for still wearing his, after all –

Later, once Hughes had gently extricated the very large fang – _What have you been getting into, Fullmetal? – None of your fucking business, that's what _\- and Roy had far too much to drink, it was time to stagger home. Hughes was, he had to be down the hall in the washroom because Roy couldn't sort out his boots, couldn't quite get them to fit his feet right. He had keened in frustration, about to set one alight when a gentle, strong hand forced him back into his desk chair, provided the right boot for the right foot and Roy had stared down in confusion at blond hair and a flushed-to-the-ears Edward ... helping him. _Kneeling between his legs. _

Oh. That was why he wasn't allowed to remember it.

There was a familiar click and it snapped Roy out of his reverie. Ed was putting the clip into his gun and checked it before the thumbing the safety on and tucking it securely into the back of his jeans. Roy stared at him. "When-"

"You left my shit on your desk," Ed said calmly, pulling his tee shirt down over the weapon as if it would be easily hidden.

"I couldn't have turned my back on you for ten seconds-"

Ed grinned, Cheshire-sharp. "I'm very good at what I do. And," he added as Roy pulled on his gloves. "I'm coming with you."

"This is a military incident, there's no need for you to be involved," Roy said, smoothing his hands over the front of his jacket. "Go back to sleep."

Ed's eyes glittered in the moonlight, and he said simply, "No."

It was different, so different when they were matched in height, and Ed's sheer willpower threatened to overrule Roy's carefully nurtured control. Roy let his eyes narrow slightly, the spark between them growing strong enough to ignite on its own. "That's an order."

"I'm not in your stupid fucking military," Ed growled at him. "You can use me, we both know it."

"You will stay here," Roy said icily as he heard the car pull to a stop on the street outside. "This does not _concern_ you, Edward."

Roy slammed back against the wall, both of Ed's hands in his shirt and contained fury in his eyes. "_Don't call me that!_ Don't you _ever_ call me that again!"

Their eyes locked, and the silence after the sudden flurry of activity seemed deafening. He could hear the car idling louder than possible, every click and rumble of its engine as it waited for Roy. Ed relaxed his hands, let Roy's uniform jacket go. Then without another word, he stormed to the door, slammed it open and headed down the walk.

Roy straightened, tugged the bottom of the jacket in the hopes of forcing the wrinkles out and … followed.

*

Ed opened the passenger side door of the car, surprising Havoc as he slid into the front seat. The man looked bad, his hair rumpled and bags under his eyes, he still stank of booze. "Are you hung over or still drunk?" Ed asked, leaning back against the seat.

Havoc whimpered, and it was enough of an answer for Ed.

Mustang opened the rear passenger side door then and Ed glared into the rear-view mirror. He was offering to help and Mustang was, Mustang was so _Mustang_, it was infuriating. He should have expected this, hands down, that Roy Mustang would be the same bastard in any universe but he seemed so different at first. So much _younger_ than his Roy, he was disciplined in different ways and full of a different sort of fire. But the layer of bastard always seemed to shine right on through.

Fuck, if that wasn't what he tended to like about Mustang in the first place. Ed bit back the groan, channeled his fury at himself into the energy needed to be alert, and looked over at Havoc as Mustang settled himself in the back seat.

Havoc glanced between Ed and Mustang, his eyebrow cocked high, the unlit cigarette in his mouth threatening to fall but Mustang spoke before he could. "Status report, Lieutenant."

"But, I-" Havoc's eyes flickered to Ed's face and back to the mirror, to check Mustang's.

"Now, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir!"

*

Ed watched the darkened world trundle by as Havoc explained the particulars to Mustang. It was so dark here, when someone extinguished the lights they extinguished _all_ of them, the neon glow of a city at night simply didn't exist. The street lamps were still lit, warm amber and not cold neon, but they were the only beacons in the night.

He listened attentively, a civilian had come onto a military research facility and killed two guards – he would have been in and out if not for a State Alchemist who was working late. Ed still entirely didn't understand this State Alchemist business – alchemists licensed to be weapons of the military in exchange for research facilities and a military stipend. A means to get by, but was the price worth it? Then Ed checked his thoughts and realized how patently ridiculous the whole thing sounded, alchemy, magic being licensed by the military for use? Sometimes he wondered if he wasn't going to wake up in a hospital bed after the head trauma he must have had to dream _this._

Then something Havoc said caught Ed's attention. "What?"

Havoc paused, glanced over at Ed. "The guard, one of the ones who got away said he'd already shot the guy, but it didn't seem to bother'em."

"Clearly he was mistaken," Mustang murmured from the back seat.

"Yeah, the guy was pretty shook up," Havoc said. "Said the guy looked like a demon or somethin', his eyes weren't right. It was only luck that he got away alive."

Ed's expression hardened. Even _here_. "What would someone want in this facility?" Ed asked.

"Military secrets, I'd imagine," Mustang said, and Ed twisted to look at him. "It's where a great deal of our alchemists do their research, there's no telling what this man is looking for." Mustang's expression twitched and Ed slammed a gate shut in his face, cutting off the emotion before it could entirely give him away. "Unless … you have some idea?"

"No," Ed very clearly lied through his teeth. "I haven't the first clue."

*

It appeared to be all over with by the time they got there. The building was cordoned off by larger vehicles than the car that Havoc drove and the few curious onlookers were beginning to drift away. There were MPs and regular soldiers drifting around, running various tasks and keeping busy.

The two alchemists were sitting on a low stone wall, bland gray military blankets slung about them. Roy gave them a cursory glance, he'd recognized the name of the State Alchemist from his proficiency exam, and he'd had some unique theories but scored on the low end of passing. Then Roy looked to the body, covered with a tarp lying out on concrete in front of the old warehouse. There was a dark pool leaking from under one end of the tarp.

Hawkeye was talking to several military police, giving instructions to those cordoning off the area and dealing with the aftermath. She glanced up and saw Roy on his way toward her, the relief flashed in her eyes to the point where she didn't even scowl to see Ed with him.

"What happened?" Roy asked.

"The civilian had a gun," Hawkeye said, fatigue in her eyes. "I dropped him before he could shoot the girl." She nodded to the couple, pressed against each other and heads tilted inward. Roy noticed the girl's shoulders were shaking. Hawkeye's grin was cold. "Turns out we didn't need a negotiator after all, Colonel."

*

No one stopped or challenged Ed, or really paid all that much attention to him as he ducked under a line of tape and approached the tarp. Havoc's words were heavy in his mind, but if this was a demon, he wouldn't be playing dead, in danger demons just flat-out fled from their meat suits. He frowned, staring at the form, the lights from the research facility giving them plenty of illumination. This was probably nothing at all, but all the same…

He crouched beside the body and flipped the edge of the tarp over, exposing the dead man's face to the air. The bullet had blown out the back of the man's head, he lay where he fell, blood pooled around his head, slick in his hair and coagulating in the warm night.

There was no indication that this man had been possessed, that it could just be a crazy coincidence, he was insane enough that the guard mistook it for something else- but he had to be sure. The Latin was clumsy on his tongue, Al was always so much better at this than he was. But he knew the words by heart now, pronunciation be damned. He murmured the words and –

The corpse jerked, head lolled a bit to the left, and then its eyes snapped open and focused on Ed. "What the hell _is_ that?" the dead man asked Ed in apparent disgust.

Ed had expected many things, up to and including the corpse twitching but if there _had_ been a demon inside the body reading a rite of exorcism would have cast it completely out of the body. He scrambled, trying to get out of reach as the corpse grabbed him. "Fullmetal _brat_," he spat, fingers digging into the flesh of Ed's right arm hard enough to bruise. "Always interfering-"

The next words out of its mouth were cut off in a long howl as Ed yanked him forwards, drawing the demon-killing knife out of his sheath with his left hand and with no hesitation slamming it up to the hilt into the side of the corpse's head. The shriek of pain and rage as Ed sliced half the creature's face open got everyone's attention and Ed rolled backwards, grip still tight on his demon knife as gore spilled from its face.

It moved faster than Ed thought, rising to its feet and lunging for him as he scrambled backwards, no time to get to his feet. It grabbed him by a handful of his hair; it was going to snap his neck before he got solid purchase enough. This was no demon; the knife had no effect on it. Silver, he had a silver blade _somewhere-_

Abruptly the creature dropped him, shrieking in pain as he erupted in an intense conflagration. Ed could feel the reflected heat as he rolled further away, but it regenerated again the moment the flames ceased. He was running down the checklist in his head but was coming up empty, too many options.

"Ed!" Mustang shouted as he got to his feet. "Get away, so we can shoot it-!"

Ed didn't turn his head as the creature's eyes popped back in, face different from before, paler and more inhuman. _Golem_, Ed thought, drew his gun. He only had four shots; he had to make them count.

*

It was absolute chaos. The dead man had come back to life and lunged for Ed and Roy had to bark an order for the men to hold their fire, lest they hit Ed. The thing, whatever it was, took a knife to the face and Roy trusted his precision far more than anyone's, save Hawkeye's.

It was such a simple chemical equation that produced the most extreme reaction. Ed getting to his face, clothes singed and smoking and not standing back, drawing his gun as Roy shouted at him to get away –

\- just as a long, black spear struck the soldier standing behind Roy through the throat.

It was the woman, throwing off her military-issue blanket, ripping her fingers from the man's throat with a spray of blood. Hawkeye, blood splatter on her face, unloaded both her guns straight into this woman, her body jerking backwards with each slug.

The impacts didn't even seem to slow her down. Roy turned and concentrated, snap, click – and her entire form went up in flames. She didn't stop moving either. The military police couldn't figure out whom to shoot at first. The moment that the flames burned out Roy snapped again, the smell of roasting flesh hanging heavy the night air.

She got closer to them, and then stopped. The flames had burned out yet again; her skin cracked and charred black before settling and knitting fresh. She looked directly into Roy's eyes, and then was gone, moving so fast through the crowd that it was hard to track her. She sliced open the tires of several of the larger vehicles before vanishing into the night. Roy stared after her, adrenaline buzzing in his veins as the soldiers around them ran in a panic, checking comrades.

Havoc had run to the man that she had been sitting next to, but the alchemist was already dead, abdomen sliced neatly open and innards spilling through his fingers. He'd died trying to hold himself together.

What was going _on?_

*

The creature hissed at Ed, his hair falling long over his shoulders. "You're not the brat," he said, sounding surprised. Ed wasn't sure which weapon he was going to need the most, he had his gun in his right hand, and at this range precision wasn't an issue, the knife still in his left.

"I get that a lot," Ed said between clenched teeth. "You're not a demon, and too self-aware to be a golem." The creature was moving slowly, but still moving, and Ed tracked him carefully, gun held level and knife held in close, ready for nearly everything.

It moved quickly, and Ed took the defensive, taking a step forward and ducking even as the creature's arm grew longer than possible Ed slammed the demon-killing knife into its gut, raised his gun and put it against the creature's chin, blowing the top of its head off without a second's hesitation.

It wasn't dead, Ed knew right off the bat, but it fell back with its brain splattered into the night. There was a firefight going on somewhere behind him, but he didn't take his eyes off the creature for a moment, wiping his face off carefully.

The creature got to its knees, then its feet, head still reforming itself. "It doesn't matter," the words whistling weird as the hole in its jaw repaired. "I wanted to kill you, but we got what we needed anyway."

Then the creature was dressed in the same blue military uniform as everyone else here. "No!" Ed shouted as he slipped into the writhing mass of soldiers. Ed gave chase but he lost him almost instantly, with the way he could change his face like a chameleon there was no chance. Ed snarled in rage as the night fell into chaos.

*

Roy was standing over the dead alchemist's body as they were loading it up into one of the vehicles, talking with Hawkeye in low tones as the injured and handful of dead were taken to a local hospital. It had been a long night already, longer still now that there had been an incident.

He resisted the urge to yawn or rub his eye with the palm of his hand. Ed had stalked over to him earlier, covered in gore and with something frightening in his eyes, he'd glanced over Roy and company and found them somehow lacking. He turned and retreated, sitting against the low stone wall, blood dried on his face and clothes. He was angry, but not in the loud destructive way that Roy was used to. It was unnerving, but Roy had a job to do and catering to pissed-off Elrics was not what he needed to be doing right now.

The fact that there were causalities, and the death of the alchemist, weighed heavily on Roy's mind even as they dealt with the clean-up. The sky was beginning to lighten along the edges when Hawkeye told him to go home. There would be plenty of paperwork to deal with tomorrow – the two crews of soldiers that had immediately taken off after the monsters had returned empty-handed. There was nothing more that could be done at this very moment.

So Roy went and sat beside Ed. Ed had borrowed a towel to clean his face and hair, and, unable to concentrate on anything else had begun to clean his gun. He didn't look over at Roy as he put the pieces back together expertly, didn't look up at all. "I didn't kill it," Ed said heavily, into the silence. "I couldn't kill it; I don't even know what it was, fuckin' failure that I am." Sliding the clip back into the gun, he thumbed the safety on, and then laid it on the towel. He exhaled, finally looked at Roy with tired eyes. "Was that you with the fire thing?"

Roy held up his still-gloved hand, the red stitching bold against the white glove. "I'm not called the Flame Alchemist for nothing," he murmured.

Ed let out a derisive laugh. "I should have known," he said. "You're an alchemist too, fuckin' alchemy's everywhere." He sighed, leaned back against the wall and stared at the significantly paler sky. "I misjudged the situation," he said.

"You're being awfully hard on yourself," Roy said. Ed was shit at masking his emotions, he was learning – he could do it sometimes but most of the time his face was as easy to read as a book. The look he was giving Roy right now, for example, was full of self-loathing.

"No," Ed said, getting up. "The problem is I'm not being hard enough on myself." He picked up his gun and slid it into his jeans, it sat comfortable at his lower back and Roy made a note to himself that if this Ed was going to be spending any length of time with the military that he would need to find him a holster. He glanced down at Roy and there was the ghost of a smile on his face. "So did you come over here just to cheer me up, or do we get to go back to your place now?"

Roy opened his mouth, closed it, looked closely at Ed's face but he had stretched both of his hands above his head and yawned hugely, not caring who saw it. "Man, I think I'll even sleep on that lumpy-ass sofa of yours this time. What do you keep in it, dead cats?" Ed scratched the side of his jaw, looked down at Roy speculatively. "Would explain the smell, actually."

"My sofa does not smell."

"When was the last time you put your face in it, Mustang?" Ed surprised him by holding out a hand, helping pull Roy to his feet. "It stinks." Ed's hand … lingered, oddly, a second before dropping. "God, I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" Eyes on Roy's face. "'Cause I am freaking famished. Is there even anything open this late? Probably not."

"Ed," Roy murmured, just to stop the flow of words. Ed looked at him, curious, and Roy had to fight the smile down. "I have food in my icebox."

"Good," Ed said and Roy tried to ignore the shadows under his eyes. "I'm _starving."_


	4. Chapter 4

Dawn was creeping rosy along the rooftops, the bright tendrils of a hot summer morning making itself known as Havoc finally pulled up in front of Roy's home. "Thank you, Lieutenant," Roy said gratefully as Ed peeled himself out of the vehicle. He'd sat in the back this time, beside Roy. Roy had given him a look but Ed didn't catch his eye, instead staring out the window again, fascinated by the route that took them to and from the crime scene.

He hadn't gone to sleep against the glass, but Roy suspected he wanted to, with the way he watched the city move past through his half-closed eyes. There was something vulnerable in the way he had tilted his head back as he settled in his seat, exposing the muscles of his throat to Roy.

During the mostly silent car-ride Roy had glanced up, to see Havoc watching him watch Ed in the rear-view mirror. A simple narrowing of his eyes made Havoc squirm a little in his seat and clearly focus on the road again.

The car idled loudly as Roy closed the door behind him. "Get some rest," Roy ordered Havoc, who yawned and them chomped down on an unlit cigarette as if it was his lifeline to lucidity. He raised a weary half-salute to Roy, who smacked the top of the car before stepping away to the curb. Ed already had his front door open and was shuffling his boots off inside the foyer.

"I could have sworn," Roy said as he closed the front door behind him. "That I locked this door."

"Clearly your memory's not up to task then," Ed said, watching Roy remove his boots carefully and leave them beside the coat rack.

"If you are still hungry, I'm sure I've got some cold ham in the fridge-" Roy murmured, and then straightened to look over at Ed. Ed was watching him with eyes that no longer seemed sleepy. The look in them woke Roy right up, and he swallowed. It had been a long day, longer than most and it was becoming harder to keep the emotions off of his face.

"I'm starving," Ed said, but he lingered a moment, his eyes on Roy's. Then he found his way to the kitchen and Roy could breathe again.

Roy leaned back against the wall, unhooking his military jacket at the throat. The exhaustion was at war with his common sense, because if Ed kept looking at him like that… he was sawing away merrily at Roy's last fibers of self-control and he really didn't how long he was going to last.

Ed stood in front of the icebox, the door open and the cold light the only light on in the kitchen. There was a warm glow through the window; soon they wouldn't need any artificial light. After a moment's uncertainty Roy shooed him away from the door and collected the ham and the cheese and located the bread in his breadbox. Ed grinned at Roy and seated himself at Roy's neglected breakfast table as Roy bustled around his kitchen in the pre-light of dawn, making cold ham sandwiches.

It was strangely comfortable. Ed sat in silence and although Roy could feel his eyes on him it wasn't unnerving. He heard the chair scrape out but didn't think anything of it until he felt Ed's presence over his shoulder. "Do you need-" Roy started to say, but then Ed wrapped his arms around Roy's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.

Roy stilled. Ed buried his face into the side of Roy's neck and inhaled, deeply. "Ed?" Roy asked quietly, as Ed lifted his head.

He couldn't see Ed's face easily from this angle, but there was an odd quality to his voice. "You don't smell the same," Ed murmured, his chin still on Roy's shoulder. "Similar, but… not." He sighed against Roy, and then the grip on Roy's waist started to slack as he moved away.

The knife in Roy's hand clattered to the counter as he twisted under Ed's grip, turning around fully to face him. Ed's eyes opened wider in surprise. "To hell with this," Roy said suddenly. Ed released his waist and started to take a step away but Roy grabbed him by the jaw and kissed him.

Ed was startled, tried to jerk his head back but Roy had a good grip on him. After a second Ed's hands dropped back to Roy's waist and drew him closer, gripping him tightly. Roy wasn't quite sure what he was doing, this was _Ed_, this wasn't who he thought it was but it still felt oddly right.

Roy released Ed's jaw with his hand and Ed was the one who broke the kiss first. He stared into Roy's eyes, both of them breathing hard, their noses scant inches apart as Ed tried to read his expression.

"Roy?" Ed breathed, his fingers digging into Roy's sides. That single syllable held so many questions. Roy closed his eyes, and tilted his head forward so their foreheads touched. Ed gave a little noise of want and kissed him forcefully.

*

They stumbled together up the stairs, food forgotten on the counter. Ed was unable to take his hands off of Mustang off of… _Roy_, he couldn't get used to how natural this was. Ed couldn't get enough of him, tongue in his mouth, hands groping around for his hip and ass, shifting aside that ridiculous uniform to feel the hard edges of Roy's body against him.

Roy's eyes were open, watching him, his hands fumbling around Ed, clutching at hip and back and made clumsy by want. Ed knew how sure those hands could be, how calming as they stroked him but right now Roy's hands were shaking. He could see it in Roy's eyes, the way he watched Ed openly that he was recording every movement for use against … what? This world's version of himself? Ed drew his head back and looked at Roy's face, pale plains far more delicate than his own, the ghost of a shadow on his cheeks. He was breathing hard, breathing in Ed's scent and just staring at him.

They were halfway up the stairs, and Ed had stopped to press Roy into the wall. He scraped his teeth along the edge of Roy's jaw as he tilted his head back into the wall, groaning low in his throat. He _didn't_ smell the same; there was a different quality to his scent, something almost … sulfurous.

It was a dangerous smell; Ed knew it far too well. But this wasn't a demonic scent on him, it was ingrained into his flesh. It was an open flame, it was the scent of wood and musk and…

_Fire alchemy._

This wasn't his Roy. Just when he thought he could blur the lines in his mind further something would bring Ed back to stark reality. This man moved in ways he didn't recognize. His eyes were the same but they watched him in a different light, their relationship here was so vastly different… Ed drew his head back and looked away, fighting the roughness in his throat.

Roy was watching him intently, and he saw the emotion in Ed's eyes before he closed them. Roy lifted a hand and ran it through Ed's short hair, tugging him closer and kissing him gently. With his eyes closed, maybe the difference wasn't enough-

"Don't think," Roy breathed against his mouth, a quiet plea. "For god's sake, Ed, don't think, _please_-"

He was straining his body against Ed, fumbling for control while still pressed down against the wall. One hand slipped down into Ed's back pocket instead of down the back of his pants and Roy snarled helplessly, groping Ed through the denim. Their eyes met as they panted together, and then Ed pressed his forehead against Roy's shoulder and laughed.

Roy took that moment and pushed Ed off of him, Ed had gone slack against his body in amusement. There wasn't much room on the stairs and Ed gripped the railing in surprise. "Bed," Roy rasped, his mouth bruised deliciously and Ed, Ed couldn't help but think about that delicious mouth wrapped around him, lips and tongue and hell, even teeth; the want resonated deep in his veins.

The sun had been creeping above the houses on the block and warm yellow squares painted the stairs around them as the early-morning sunlight slanted through the windows of Roy's house. Roy's hand grabbed Ed's shirt, and he pulled, forcefully, almost dragging Ed up the steps behind him. Ed laughed again, grabbed Roy's arm and yanked him back so that Ed could kiss him again. The sunlight made Roy's hair shimmer almost blue, and when they broke apart Ed knew how the sunlight caught his own hair – his Roy could wax poetic for hours about Ed's hair and sunlight if he let him – and Roy just stared at him.

Ed threaded his fingers through Roy's and that seemed to awaken him from his reverie; he tightened his hands over Ed's and pulled him up the remaining stairs toward the bedroom.

*

Roy wasn't quite sure how this was going to work. Ed kicked the bedroom door shut behind him with a sure foot, amber eyes alight with something beyond description. He'd imagined Fullmetal – _Edward_ – in this situation more times than he cared to admit to himself, he'd examined it from the outside, from every possible angle. Roy kissing Edward, walking him backwards toward the bed, pulling the tie out of his hair-

Ed's eyes were watching him and suddenly Roy felt strangely small. He wanted Ed, Edward – they weren't the same person and yet somehow they were; eyes the same warm gold, utterly alien and completely familiar all at once. Ed crossed the room to him, one hand settled possessively on Roy's hip and it was Roy who was supposed to be in control right now. He kissed so deeply it was as if he was drinking in Ed, drowning in him.

His hands slipped up under Ed's tee shirt, dusty and smelling faintly of smoke. Ed stepped back just a bit, allowed Roy to pull the shirt up over his head and drop it on the ground beside them. Ed shook his head, his hair settling back after the static of the removed shirt had made it stand on end.

The buttons of Roy's dress shirt came next, Ed's fingers sure and quick, somehow not yanking. No buttons came flying free. Roy's shirt didn't quite hit the ground, still tucked in to the back of Roy's trousers but they were both now naked to the waist, their bodies pressed together like they couldn't quite get enough of the sensation.

Careful fingers found the scar tissue on Roy's side, tracing over the old wound gently, following the rise of muscle. Roy slipped out of Ed's grip and shoved him back toward the bed. Ed grinned, an easy open smile, breathing through his mouth as he dropped to Roy's mattress. Roy stood there, looking down at Ed, felt the sweat drip down the back of his neck as he stood between Ed's cocked-wide legs. They said nothing, simply looked at each other as the day grew brighter around them.

Ed with no scars from automail; two firm, muscled shoulders and god, Roy worked out almost daily and didn't have abs like that. Different scars entirely, some thin silvery welts, others more distinct and recognizable – Roy knew a long-healed gunshot wound by sight, and some of those wounds had to have come from a blade – and a strange, dark tattoo on his chest.

If he wanted to get laid, he was going to have to stop thinking, Roy realized, just like he had told Ed in the stairs. Those wolf-like eyes were watching him silently, and he wondered if Ed was replacing him with _his_ Roy…

Ed reached out and captured Roy's arm, his fingers around Roy's wrist. He brought Roy's hand to his face, kissed the palm before twining his fingers with Roy's. Their hands were the same size. Ed pulled Roy closer, wrapped his arms around him, face pressed to Roy's stomach. "We don't have to," he said quietly. "If you'd rather not, I understand-" Ed shifted uncomfortably against the bed and Roy knew how hard he had to be, at least as hard as Roy was-

Since when was it _Ed_ who was supposed to be whispering these platitudes to _him-?_

Roy put his hands on both of Ed's shoulders and pushed, shoving him backwards onto the bed. Ed's arms were still tight around his waist, and drew Roy with him so that he landed atop of Ed when Ed flumped onto the mattress with a laugh. He let Roy slide free and Roy wormed his hands down between them, finding the snap of Ed's jeans with his hands alone. His eyes on Ed, he slipped his hands into the tight warmth of his underwear until he found what he was looking for and Ed hissed out a breath, his eyes going unfocused for a second as Roy squeezed him.

With Ed suitably distracted Roy got up off of him, off the side of the mattress so he could kneel between Ed's spread legs. He peeled Ed's jeans down off his hips, just far enough to give him the access needed. Ed hung, heavy and solid in Roy's hand, and Roy's fingers were gentle but firm as he stroked him. Ed's legs shifted around Roy, constrained still by the jeans, unable to spread wider for him.

Roy kept Ed pinned with only his mouth. Ed didn't shift upwards to watch him, and the way he twisted as Roy sucked him made Roy think that he was younger than he was, panting to the ceiling until he was on the verge. A heavy hand dropped onto Roy's forehead, shoving his head back sharply. Roy opened his mouth and let Ed slide out, looking up at Ed who had finally struggled into an upright position. "Not yet," Ed breathed hoarsely, bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat, strands coming away at crazy angles. His fingers brushed Roy's cheeks as he stared down at him; and then Ed gripped both of Roy's wrists to tug him up off of his knees. Another quick, shared kiss – Ed seemed delighted to taste himself in Roy's mouth – before Roy had to stagger completely to his feet, out of the uncomfortable position somewhere between kneeling and standing.

His fingers fought at the belt of his military uniform, opening the catch, trying to get free of the tangle of material. Ed helped, yanking his trousers down his body, taking Roy's underwear with them. Roy exhaled in relief as he stepped out of his clothes, completely naked for Ed.

Ed's hands were broad and sure on his hips as he looked up at Roy. He wanted this; it was in his eyes, completely unguarded. He wanted Roy, all of him, right now. They were both thinking of someone else while they stared into each other's eyes, and Roy thought a little dazedly; _that's all right, isn't it…?_

*

Ed pulled Roy to him, onto the bed and, while he was off-balance, rolling him over. Roy gave a yelp of surprise to find himself UNDER Ed, but Ed pinned him effectively into the mattress. His jeans were barely staying on his hips and hanging free for Roy's attention to drift toward. And look he did; dark eyes hungry as if he had not just had Ed in his mouth.

The look in Roy's eyes was making Ed's stomach twist into knots. He knew that look; that was the look that said he wanted to take Ed, make him gasp Roy's name into the sheets, made him beg for it. Ed grinned a wicked little grin, his hands on Roy's face, shoulders, flattened on his chest and stomach as he sat back on his heels, and slowly explored Roy's body with his hands.

Same, same, same, they all felt the same. Roy didn't have this data to compare to like Ed did, and for a moment he felt for Roy – and then Ed shook the thought out of his head as his fingers stroked down Roy's length, causing him to jerk against the sheets. _Stop thinking._

Ed leaned over Roy, one hand still circling him, stroking him and said in a voice deeper than what Roy had imagined, "I'm going to fuck you."

Roy's expression flattened, the noise caught in his throat sounded suspiciously like a whimper. Ed's hands on him, skin jumping underneath his touch.

*

They moved together, Roy with his legs spread open wide, in a position that would uncomfortable in other circumstances. Ed had one hand supporting his hips, the other flat on the bed, rocking in to Roy with short, shallow thrusts. Sweat ran down his throat and arms as Roy watched him, then he tilted his head back into the bed, with one hand braced on Ed's thigh as he rocked back against Ed.

Ed had his eyes pressed closed, his jaw tense. He was holding himself back, Roy realized in surprise. He tensed as Ed shifted over him, opened his eyes and grinned down at Roy in such an open way.

Before Roy could put a name to the way that look made him feel Ed shifted again, put both his hands on the mattress and thrust harder and deeper than before and anything resembling coherent thought leaked out of Roy's head with his breath.

*

Roy woke when a shadow slid off of his face and the afternoon sun crept across his eyes. He growled weakly, throwing an arm over his face and feeling overheated, sticky with sweat and in need of a shower. The air in the room was hot and still, a stale breeze stirring the thin curtains.

He didn't want to move. Hot and sweaty and a little bit sore that he was, he was comfortable. Too many things to worry about once he got out of his bed, too many things he didn't want to think about. _Don't think, Ed, for god's sake-_

That was when he realized he was alone in his bed. Roy sat up quickly, felt a little dizzy from the heat. Ed looked up from where he was crouched, piece of chalk in his hand. "Did I wake you?"

Roy ran a hand through his hair, spiked strangely with sweat and sleep. He must have the worst bed-head ever. Ed was wearing his jeans and nothing else, barefoot on the hardwood. He'd rolled aside the small area carpet and was drawing a circle on the floor with the chalk he had liberated from Roy's study. "What are you doing to my floor?" Roy rumbled.

It didn't look like any transmutation circle he'd ever seen. The symbols written inside it were completely foreign. "This is my ticket home," Ed said, looking back down at it and making a few finishing touches to the circle.

"What?"

"It's a summoning circle," Ed explained. "I… had a dream about it," he said. He reached over and Roy saw for the first time one that Ed had a dagger laying beside his feet.

Roy wasn't awake enough for this. He stumbled out of his bed, found his trousers in a wrinkled pile kicked half under the bed and tugged them on. Now no longer completely naked, he crossed his arms and scowled at Ed. "Were you just going to leave without saying goodbye?"

"That presumes the fact that this probably isn't going to work," Ed said, taking his knife and slicing open his hand. He touched his bloody hand to the center of the summoning circle and to both of their surprises, it lit blue. "What-"

Then there was a small explosion of smoke. Ed let out a whoop and stumbled backwards, falling on his ass. As the smoke cleared, it became apparent that something had worked right, because Ed's face broke into a huge grin. "Cas, am I _glad_ to see you."

The man standing in the center of the summoning circle gave Roy a peculiar look, before glancing down to Ed with a scowl on his face. "You had to go and piss off a faerie."

"Yeah, well that happens when you try to blow its brains out."

"Nasty, vile creatures," he murmured. "What took you so long?" The man Ed had called Cas smudged a chalk line with his shoe. "I have been waiting for your summons."

"I had to find chalk," Ed said. "And your funky Enochian sigils are fucking hard to draw."

"Who," Roy pointed at Cas. "Is _that?"_

"Oh," Ed said, getting to his feet finally. He nodded at the stranger. "This is Castiel. He's, uh. An angel."

"An angel."

"Yeah, it's a long story," Ed said. "Cas, this is Colonel Roy Mustang. He let me bum around his place while I was getting sorted out." He held his still-bleeding hand out to Cas. "You got enough angel mojo to maybe do something about this?"

Castiel gave Ed a particularly dour look, and Ed put both hands up in supplication. "Worth a shot, jeez."

"Your brother is worried about you."

"When isn't Al," Ed said, cracking an uncertain grin. He looked at Roy and there was something there behind his eyes again. He covered it with a grin, started to hold out his hand and realized it was the bloody one, so he offered his left hand. "So, uh. Nice meetin' you, Mustang. Hope things work out between you and your Elric."

Roy blinked down at Ed's hand, and then took it. Before he could open his mouth to say anything else, the two of them were gone. Roy looked around the room in confusion, but aside from a smudged chalk circle and a few drops of blood, there was no trace that they had ever been there.

*

"Why does this sort of shit always happen to me," Ed lamented, as Al tied the bandage tightly around his hand. "Fucking faeries."

"I don't know, but I'm sure you probably did something to deserve it," Al said. Ed shoved his brother in the shoulder and Al rolled his eyes, tossing the emergency medkit into the trunk of the car. He returned with two long-neck bottles of beer from the cooler and handed one off to Ed, who was seated comfortably on the hood of the Impala.

"So what happened with the clurichaun?"

"It doubled back after you disappeared," Al said, as Ed popped the cap from his bottle into the long weeds on the side of the road. Al gave his brother a dirty look and Ed shrugged. "I killed it, and when I couldn't find you took the girl back to her parents. You still hadn't turned up, so I called Cas and he did a quick scour and couldn't turn you up anywhere, so he went dreamwalking."

"Glad he did, I had no clue how I was going to get back."

"Where were you, anyway?"

Ed exhaled, looked up at the dusky sky. Then he shrugged, caught Al's eye and grinned. "No place special."

*

The heat still hadn't broken, and Roy had given up on military protocol. His jacket hung off the back of his desk chair and the top several buttons of his dress shirt were undone. He had rolled his sleeves up past the elbow and was listlessly skimming a finance report when someone knocked on his office door.

It wasn't so much a knock, as it was Edward kicking the door open. He shoved it closed again with his boot, head turned over his shoulder to shout at Alphonse, presumably. "-a minute!" His long hair was frizzing out with the heat, and coming loose from his braid. The familiar heavy red coat flapped around him, Roy really didn't think he could even exist without it, but he had forgone every other layer except for a sleeveless shirt beneath it. Edward had both his hands shoved in his pockets and gave Roy a look like he could see right through him.

Roy put down his pen and folded his hands in front of his face. "Fullmetal," he rumbled. "Doors aren't just for decoration, you know."

Edward gave a dismissive noise. "Like you're ever doing any _real_ work in here," he snorted. Roy glanced down at the paper covering his desk and raised an eyebrow, and when he had looked up Edward had shuffled before his desk.

"You didn't bring your report from your trip to the West?" he said at Edward's empty hands. The teenager straightened and Roy met his eyes, eyebrow still raised. He was holding himself still, meeting Roy's eye with an achingly familiar expression, and then-

"I need, _fuck._" Edward shuffled in place. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I need some help with it." He didn't drop his gaze from Roy's but the flush was beginning to creep across his nose. "There was some pretty esoteric fire alchemy that this nutjob used, and I know you have the books I need to check the guy's notes against. So." Swallowed, it took all of Roy's self control not to watch Edward's throat move. "I'm coming over tonight to look through your library," Edward said firmly.

Roy had extended an open invitation to the Elric brothers earlier, weeks, _months_ ago, before this had become _that_, to come and peruse his personal collection of books on fire alchemy. Edward had never taken him up on it – why would he want to look at _Mustang's_ books, they were probably all pervy _anyway_ – and Roy, heart in his throat … tested.

"So very nice of you to give me some warning," Roy murmured. "What time should I expect you and Alphonse, Fullmetal?"

"Just me," Edward mumbled. "Al is, Al's, fuck he said he was _busy_, don't know what the fuck he's busy with-" And now Edward couldn't meet his eye any longer but that was okay. Roy had to get his expression under control before Edward looked back up.

"After dinner then?" Roy said. "I'll have to get the stepladder out, otherwise you'll never be able to reach-"

Edward's shriek of indignation and his subsequent kicking of the corner of Roy's desk upset a pile of papers, which fluttered to the ground as he stormed out. He flung the office door open, looked back at Roy a split second and Roy saw in his eyes –

_-do you know what I was doing at fifteen, Mustang? –_

…and then he kicked the door closed behind him.

Roy sat back in his desk chair, and smiled.


End file.
